the song of forgetting
by Juniorstarcatcher
Summary: Madge Undersee comes to District Thirteen hijacked. Gale Hawthorne tries to rescue her from her own mind.
1. Chapter 1

"You can't make me see him! I won't see him!"

Gale has never heard anything like it in his life. He hears Madge screaming like a torture victim through four feet of concrete walls. This is her third week in Thirteen. And nothing is helping. The hijacking is a part of her now. It is everything she sees. It is everything she feels. It is a piece of her, like her fingernails or her eyelashes. They could no more pluck those out than they could take away what the Capitol placed in her mind. And Gale is here to see her for the first time. Well, second. The first time was the day she stepped off the train. No one knew the extent of her torture until she refused to step off the train at the sight of him. They asked Gale to leave. He only caught a glimpse of her through a window.

Head in hands. Palms sweating. Closed throat. Gale cannot control his body. Madge's voice is all he hears. In his mind, he can see her, trapped in a tiny cell, thrashing about, blonde hair splayed across a white bed, eyes unseeing, throat straining, muscles pained. He can see her restrained by doctors. His arms ache to hold her, to make things right once more. But he is the problem. He is the one she refuses to see.

"I won't see him! Stop!" comes another anguished cry.

Her voice reaches a thrill, sobbing fever pitch. Then, Gale hears a splash. Madge is suddenly silent, deadly silent. He looks up from his clenched hands as a psychologist walks from Madge's room. The man in the grey lab coat rubs his face with a rag, wiping the dripping sweat and look of exhaustion clean from his face. The Undersee girl was more than a handful today; she always is when the young soldier is discussed.

"You can go in now. She's restrained," he says, pocketing his hand towel.

The doctor's face is pained. There are a million things he wishes he could say to the young man waiting in the hall. Things like: she will never recover, not from this. But, too soon, Gale is on his feet and through the door in a moment, not giving the man an opportunity to even breathe a hint of a heartbreaking sentence.

The world goes a shade dark when Gale enters the room, where all of the furniture is welded to the floor and the lights flicker with unreliable electricity. Madge sits, handcuffed at a table, her back hunched, her entire body shaking like a leaf in a hurricane. Her entire body is soaking wet. Gale cannot tell water droplets from tears. Her hair drips on the floor with sickening ease.

Empty eyes stare at handcuffed hands. Madge gulps. Gale breathes.

Gale knows that hosing her down with ice cold water usually stops the hijacking spells. They explained it all to him very clearly. But he knows he will never get used to seeing her like this. The Madge he knows is the brave, bold girl in that obnoxious dress. She stands up to him on the Reaping Day. She hands off a rebellious pin to Katniss. She makes him survive watching the Games. But now, she is awfully small. The Capitol stole Madge away from herself. The Capitol broke her. If he could, he would take them all on again.

"They say you're not going to kill me," she wheezes.

This is the first thing Madge has said to him since the Bombing of District Twelve.

"Is that true?" She asks.

She looks up from her handcuffs, blue eyes wide and red from crying. Her hands are raw from thrashing; everything is wet. She cannot decide if her mind or her body is more tired. Gale speaks, the words falling from his tongue and his heart at once.

"I wouldn't ever hurt you."

Shiny memories flash across her eyes. _Gale Hawthorne with a gun_. _Gale Hawthorne on a whipping post_. _Parachutes_. Her entire body convulses. The metal handcuffs dig into her skin and she looks away from him with purpose, blinking until her eyes are sore to rid herself of the dragging phantoms of memories she isn't sure she belongs to.

"I don't believe you," she breathes.

Gale has to lean against the far wall for support. He is gutted. They told him that it would be like this, but his heart and his head lose track of one another. He says something and the moment he does he knows he isn't convincing either of them.

"You will," he vows,

He pauses and considers his words carefully. But he looks at her. Really looks at her. And he cannot help himself.

"I love you," he says, a confession that chokes him.

Madge builds up her walls. Her defenses are up. Memories are threatening to drag her under.

"I don't believe you," she repeats.

* * *

Gale talks to every specialist. He shouts and threatens every doctor who ever laid hands on her in the Capitol. He tries to understand. He falls short. Because no one understands.

So, he does the best with what he has. Madge has bad memories. He just has to fix them. Right?

* * *

One morning, Madge wakes to complete silence. No doctors. No bustling nurses. No machines. No clinking handcuffs. Her eyes slide open cautiously.

The room looks like a funeral. Or a meadow. Flowers. There are flowers everywhere. They look fresh, though Madge could not tell. She has not seen a real flower in a year. Her fingers linger across the soft petals. Her eyes slide closed. A memory stirs in the back of her mind, but it cannot break free. It goes forgotten for the moment.

Then she finds the note.

Madge,

_On our first date, I took you to the meadow. You called me an idiot and I called you a princess. We talked about a revolution. I promised to take you hunting. You wore a white dress that I still remember and you laughed at all of my jokes. I think I loved you even then. At the end of the night, we sat in the meadow and I tried to pick you a flower, but you told me to save the flowers for later. You wanted me to surprise you. I hope you are surprised. I love you, Madge._

-Gale.

Madge merely clings to the note and breathes in the scent of the wildflowers. It is the first time that his name doesn't bring on a full panic.

* * *

**So here is a story that I posted on tumblr about a year ago! I hope y'all enjoy it and please leave a review! **


	2. Chapter 2

Three weeks pass before Gale is called back down to Madge's cell. The doctors mutter things to him in quick order about safety, a new panic button is installed to ensure his protection. Today, he and Madge will be the only ones in the room. They are trying something different. But, they want to make sure he is safe. They want no repeats of Peeta's near murder of Katniss. But Gale doesn't really listen to them as they talk at him. He instead wonders about the flowers he sent. He wonders about the letters that followed, day after day. Would she even read them? Did they throw her into a panic? Will he ever have the woman he loves back?

They usher him in and slam the door behind. The sound of metal on metal is absolute. He is back in Madge's cell, just as he was three weeks ago, but things look different. Well, Madge looks different. A little healthier. A little less crazed. Breathing patterns a little less erratic. A bucket of ice water sweats in the corner, unused but laying in wait. In case of a spell, they said as they slid it into place.

He doesn't know, but Madge is the one who asked them to put it there. Madge is the one who asked for a new panic button. Gale would never have the heart to use either and he will have no use for them either way. But Madge doesn't know that, so, she requests new safety measures for him.

The door clicks shut, but Madge ignores Gale completely, getting up and walking across the room, to her table. A pair of handcuffs scrapes across the surface. She slips one on. Click, click, click. She pushes until it locks. Then, she crosses to her bed and loops the chain around the metal frame. She sinks to the floor and snaps the other cuff on. Gale deflates. He thought she was different now.

"I don't want to hurt you," she explains.

Maybe she is different.

"I just can't stop the pictures," she continues.

Her neck shakes back and forth, her chin dipping as her blonde hair curtains her face. Gale struggles to keep control of his body. He cannot rush to her side. Not now. Gale shoves his hands in his pockets to keep from reaching for her. Madge's features contort and a cuffed hand rises to the side of her face. Her nails dig into the flesh as though she could pull reality from the skin. She is trying so hard.

"I just want to know what is real. No one will tell me what is real," she nearly begs.

The words come out half choked. Half sob. Entire heartbreak. Madge wants so badly to believe in loving him. She wants so badly to wake up one morning, read one of his letters, and see nothing but goodness.

"I wish I could see what you see," she whispers.

His memories are pure. His memories are beautiful. Madge cannot believe what he writes, no matter how much she wishes she could. She wishes his truth is something she could just accept, but she can't. Her body, her instincts, fight her heart. And Madge is so tired of fighting.

Gale thinks of lightening the moment. Of mentioning these small progresses, these small victories…Hey, at least she isn't trying to kill him yet. But he doesn't. His heart is too split for that. He could not pick up enough pieces for a joke. So, he crosses the room and sits before her. Not close enough to touch. But just close enough.

"What's real?" The words are breathy, "Well. Your name is Madge Undersee. Mine is Gale Hawthorne-"

She cuts him off. A shiny haze casts over things. Parachutes. Explosions. Screams. The phantoms of jacker venom burns through her veins.

"You killed a lot of people in the war," she cuts him off.

The pause she takes here is punctuated by her steel blue eyes cutting his. There is betrayal and confusion in her.

"Didn't you?"

She is hoping he will deny the whole thing. She is hoping he didn't kill Prim. She is hoping that he wasn't the mastermind behind the bombing in Twelve.

"Yes," he confirms

A sharp intake of breath hits Madge. She gulps hard. She tries to move away from him. The cuffs keep her in place. They told her it was his fault. He was an explosives expert. Her blood sears at the memory of the venom. She snaps her eyes shut. Her body starts to curl in on itself. The ghosts of pain burn her blood. Her mind aches at the strain. Shiny memories cover everything she sees as Gale flinches.

"You need to leave," she finally manages

Instinct drives Gale closer to her. Madge is in pain. He should help. But then, her words remind him of reality.

"Go!" She screams.

He scrambles to his feet and walks away from her, though everything in him begs to stay. His head swims. He presses the exit button and waits for an orderly to release the locks. His shoulders are slumped. His chin dips. Madge's words come unbidden through a heavily panting voice.

"I'm sorry, Gale," she mutters.

Gale turns to her. And on the way, he catches sight of something on her table. A book whose pages are falling open in the conditioned air. Stuck in the middle of the pages is a single yellow wildflower. A smile brushes Gale's lips. Hope inflates him.

"I love you, Madge. That's the only thing that matters. That is what's real."

Locks release on the metal doors. He turns the handle.

"Is it really?"

Madge whispers it, half hoping that he would ignore her and move on. But he releases his hold on the door. Every muscle tenses. He nods without turning. If this is her way of saying goodbye, he cannot look at her. Not this way.

"Then would you stay? Just a little longer?"

All Madge ever wanted was someone to tell her the truth. So, Gale does. A little while turns into an hour, which turns into an evening. Which turns into a lifetime.

* * *

**Two more chapters! Please review and let me know what you think! Happy memorial day!**


	3. Chapter 3

"She's not crazy, God dammit!"

Gale slams the door, watching it listlessly as it shakes on its hinges. He is not satisfied by the noise in the silent hall, and he slams his balled fist against the metal for good measure. Fireworks of rage shoot through his mind. Thoughts whizz past him so quickly he cannot grasp one. He cannot hold on to one particular reason to be angry. There are too many. Injustices play tricks in him, making him look in a certain direction while they kick him with his back turned. His hands shake, and his teeth ache as he grinds them. He hits another wall before he slams his shoulder against it and slides down to the ground. The cold floor does nothing to shock him back to sense. His shaking hands rise up to the side of his face, running his fingers through his hair, gripping at the roots. His breath is erratic. His eyes are unfocused. He would be lying if he didn't acknowledge the bitter tears choking him up. Tensing his face, he pushes them back, swallows them away. But ever since Madge was released from the hospital wing, he could sense a little misery in her. Not enough. Not as much as when she first arrived. But, she needs the sky. she needs light. She needs the air. He is just trying to save her.

He filled out every form. He sat in every interview. He checked every box. He did everything right. But it wasn't good enough. As always.

This is the fourth district transfer request denied. The fourth.

First, it was District Two. Gale thought the mountains…The stone, the wind, the sky. District Two is vast. Solid. A place to build a home.

Then it was District Eight. The trees, the sun, the earth. Something about the sway of the trees in the morning sunshine. Gale can see it in her eyes. He can see the hope of a future there.

Then it was District Nine. Grain. Wide open space. An endless horizon. Finally, Gale thinks, a place to breathe. A place where they can just breathe out all of their past and breathe in a new life.

But today. Today is District Eleven. Fruit. Growth. Life. A place where he and Madge can be safe. A place where they can plant the seeds of forever.

All four requests come back the same. Big red letters, impersonally stamped across the top. Request: denied. Handwritten notes explain that they all want Gale. Gale is a leader. Districts fight over the chance to have him. But no one will take Madge. Her medical records silence her. She is nothing but the crazy, violent, hijacked refugee. And no one will accept that liability. Not even if it means they get Gale.

Gale picks up this most recent blow from the floor, fleshing out the papers across his knees. The red letters screaming _Request Denied_ across the top say it all. Failure. He is a failure. He promised Madge everything. And he can't even give her a home. Just a tiny shell apartment miles below the ground. He's sick of himself. The pain knocks into him like the steady hum of a fan.

No one gets it. He has seen and spoken to and contacted hundreds of people. And not one of them get it. That realization is what breaks through Gale's years of defenses. He is a fighter through and through. He fought for independence. He fought for his sanity. He fought for Madge. He fought for freedom from this underground prison. He fought for a future. But Gale is so tired of fighting. He just wants Madge. Is that such an extraordinary want? The final look at his denied request, the completed understanding that it truly is he and Madge against the entire universe, is enough to send everything crumbling. Not like a house of cards, blown by a stray wind at his feet. But like a purposefully collapsed mine, torn down by dynamite and fury and thunder. The tears start. He chokes out something between a sob and a roar.

"You alright there, Soldier?"

In a breath of a moment, the tears are gone, the throat is clear, and the eyes are wide. Finnick Odair stands before him. Shit. Finnick and Gale share no words. Not at first. Instead, the victor invites himself to sit alongside the broken man. He looks over Gale's shoulder, reading the words printed in red. Gale draws in a shaking breath; it heaves his chest. Gale isn't entirely sure why he speaks. Finnick isn't entirely sure why he sits. But it happens all the same. There is something undeniable about the pair of them.

"We got denied again. This is the fourth time," Gale breathes.

He turns his head and passes his paperwork over to Finnick. Odair's perfectly shaped eyebrows furrow as he flips, page after page, denial after denial. Memories of his own flash furiously before him, dancing across the white pages of Gale's transfer requests.

"When Annie first got out of her Games, they wouldn't even let me see her. They kept me away from her. Hoped that she would snap out of it," Finnick mutters.

Finnick reaches out into his past with his mended heart. Gale watches as his body remains, but Finnick retreats farther and farther away from District Thirteen.

"No one understands, Gale. They think they do because they can make pills and they can tie her down and they can talk her off the ledge, but," he pauses here, trying to recover his heart, "They aren't ever going to understand what we do. They see a broken mind. We see a fully capable heart. They don't understand that loving her is the best thing that anyone can do for her. That letting her love is the best thing they can let her do."

Somewhere along the way, Gale loses track of if Finnick is talking about Madge or Annie, but he doesn't care. The victor comes back down to earth, back to District Thirteen. He leaves his memories and returns once more to reality. His passionate speech takes even himself off guard. Trying to recover, he flashes Gale Hawthorne a winning smile.

"At least, that's what I've discovered."

He pushes away from the wall, reaching up to stand on his own two feet once more. Gale says nothing, only taking back the crumpled denial request when Finnick hands it back. Offering a quick goodbye, Finnick starts to make his way back to Annie. His heart craves completion that only her presence can provide. He wants to feel her hand in his, to see the hairs on the back of her neck, to light up her eyes. But then, he turns around. There is one more thing to say.

"And, Gale?"

Finnick searches the younger man's eyes for a long moment before giving Gale another chance at a future. There is a want in Gale's eyes, the want of a child who looks at a parent, hopeful that something good is coming, but unsure of what to ask for.

"A little bird tells me that they're opening District Four again soon."

There is nothing more that needs to be said. Hope, unbidden and irrational, fills Gale. And Finnick winks.

"Just something to think about."


	4. Chapter 4

They are given a house on the Coast, and Gale hates it. He should love it, really, since it is everything he could have wanted. The rooms are vast, the walls are bright, the windows bleed sunshine. But...there is the ocean. That vast, angry ocean. Gale sees it every morning and it creeps on him throughout the day as he sits at his desk, peering through his window. The sounds of the waves lull him to sleep.

Gale does not fear much. He does not fear hunger. He does not fear poverty. He does not fear death. He does not fear war. But he does fear those waves. He does fear that ocean.

Water is powerful. He remembers Madge in the hospital. The doctors were convinced that water therapy would snap her out of her hijacked state, and they weren't wrong. It worked, but not without consequences. Water is a trigger for her now, a memory of nightmares gone by. Madge hates the water; she cannot even take a bath without Gale nearby. Sometimes, he stands under the stream of the shower with her, fully clothed, and holds her in his arms just to remind her where she is.

So, he avoids the ocean. He avoids the water outside, hoping on hope that Madge will grow used to its presence. Ease her into it, Finnick said. Apparently Annie had similar problems. Problems that only time could heal. Gale could give Madge time. And he does. Because Gale is afraid of the ocean. But he was afraid of losing Madge more.

"I know what you're trying to do," Madge says one day.

He looks up from his work. The blueprints hurt his eyes and beat at his head. Madge stands in his doorway, bathed in mid-morning light pouring in from the window. Her arms are folded and her eyes are focused; she means business. Gale tries to diffuse, giving her a half-smile.

"What am I trying to do?" He asks, a joke in his throat.

He stares down at his work lightly. He gives it minimal attention, as he always does when she is around.

"You're trying to keep me from the water," she says, numbly.

It isn't a lie. Gale has done everything in his power to keep her away, to keep her distracted. He sends her on errands. He asks her to paint, to decorate, to cook. Anything to keep her separated from the dangerous clutches of the deep blue ocean. Gale doesn't want her near the water. Gale doesn't want her to suffer. Madge pushes away from the doorframe.

"We live on a beach, Gale. You can't expect me to never go out there," she intones.

Madge may be terrified, but Madge is also practical. Rational. Gale will protect her to the ends of the earth, he knows that, but he cannot protect her from living her life. He relents.

"Let's go."

Not five minutes later, Madge is standing on the beach. The ocean is calm today, still and flat in the sunshine. It laps up on the shore in time with Madge's breath. She and Gale cling to one another. The energy from one passes tangibly to the other through their clasped hands. The fear is palpable. But Madge knows it must be done.

"We can go back inside any time you want," Gale mutters.

Madge shakes her head.

"You can't be the only one trying, Gale."

Madge pulls him toward the water. With every brush of ocean against her toes, Gale rewards her with a kiss. They gradually drift inward every few moments until they are finally knee deep in ocean.

"Look," Gale breathes against Madge's lips.

They look out into the distance, almost unaware of the water swirling around their legs. Madge's breath catches in the chest. The sun in setting in the distance. Madge hasn't watched a sunset in a year. The light plays in Madge's remarkable blue eyes and Gale smiles. Perhaps the ocean is not so bad after all.

Perhaps they'll be okay.


End file.
